


this night's almost over

by loafers



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Coming Out, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:19:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5486759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loafers/pseuds/loafers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>london 2012, luke takes up residence in michael's bed. it gets complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this night's almost over

**Author's Note:**

> i've been working on this for literally a year on and off kms. love and kisses to sara and clo for the undeserved encouragement!! title is from the blink-182 song. enjoy~

A pillow smacks into Luke’s head, startling him. His earphones pull out of his ears as he twists around to glare at Calum.

“Turn it off,” Calum whines, his voice croaky with sleep.

“But I’m not tired,” Luke says, trying to angle his screen down a bit more but he knows it’s useless. Any tiny thing keeps Calum up. It’s so annoying. 

Calum groans. “Come on dude, I can hear it from here.” 

“ _How?_ ” Luke can’t understand it. He’s using headphones and he’s got the sound down so low he can barely hear it himself. 

“I just _can_.”

Luke shuts his laptop with a huff. “I’m supposed to lie here and just do nothing?” 

“I don’t care, as long as I’m sleeping. Chuck my pillow back.”

Luke does, with force, at Calum’s head. Calum just catches it though, snuggling in without complaint.

The door pushes open and Luke can just make out Michael standing there in the light spilling in from the hall window. He has his doona wrapped around himself, making him the shape of a small squishy mountain in the doorway.

“I heard you guys talking,” he says. Luke didn’t realise anyone else was awake, they’d all gone to bed hours ago on his mum’s orders.

“Fuck off,” Calum groans wearily, and rolls over, clutching his pillow.

“Calum’s being a bitch,” Luke says, trying not to pout. “I’m not tired. He won’t let me watch Spongebob.”

“I’m not sleeping either. Come hang out in my room,” Michael says, motioning with a tip of his chin back down the hall. 

Luke doesn’t think twice. He hops up and, shivering in his pajama shorts, follows the Michael mountain back to his room.

...

Michael has better stuff to watch on his laptop, and they don’t have to wear earphones so it’s more comfortable to lie down. The bed’s small, but they fit, Michael propped up a little with his laptop on his chest and Luke curled on his side squished against the wall, sharing the corner of his pillow.

They watch most of Spirited Away but by the end it’s getting towards three AM and Luke’s eyelids are heavy, dragging closed longer and longer with each blink. 

He’s stirred awake when Michael moves to close his laptop, shifting away to lean over the edge of the bed and slip it onto the floor. 

“You can sleep here,” Michael mumbles, half asleep himself already. He pulls the blankets up to his chin, eyes closed. Warm and comfortable, Luke can’t find any reason why he shouldn’t. He settles a little heavier against Michael’s side, and falls back to sleep. 

...

And it works the first night, but the next, after the episode of Game of Thrones ends, Luke sits up and asks, “Don’t you want your bed to yourself?”

Michael settles back into his spot after placing his laptop on the floor and fusses with the blankets. “Don’t wanna be on my own,” he admits sheepishly.

“Oh okay,” Luke says and lies back down. “It’s warmer like this anyway.” The London winter nights are bitterly cold, but Michael’s like a furnace. He tugs a slightly larger share of the blankets and closes his eyes, listens to the silence, the hum of Michael’s laptop shutting off as it goes to sleep.

“It’s dumb,” Michael says after a moment. “I have my own room at home.” 

“It’s okay,” Luke mumbles. 

“It’s different here. At home I can hear dad watching TV or mum in the kitchen. It’s so quiet.”

Luke knows Michael’s struggled the worst out of all of them, being away from home. He cried the first time they flew out of Sydney, and Luke’s never been able to forget that. It freaked him out. He’s not some macho guy but he’d never seen a boy cry like that before, and Michael had been so embarrassed, trying to hide it. When Ashton stepped in and swapped seats to be next to him so he could give him a cuddle, strangely, it’s what Luke remembers as the moment he felt safe and secure in what they were doing, in the gamble they were taking. Michael’s vulnerability and Ashton’s willingness and ease with which he handled it made Luke feel like they’d be okay, no matter what, together.

He still feels kind of guilty, though, having his own mum here with them when Michael seems to miss his own so much. 

“I’m not scared,” Michael says, kind of defensively. 

“I know,” Luke says. “You’re just homesick.” 

“Yeah,” Michael mumbles with a sniff, and buries his face in his pillow. Luke feels like maybe he should hug him or something, be closer, touch him. He’s not good at comforting people.

Michael sighs so heavily Luke feels it shift the mattress. He’s about to reach a tentative hand out when Michael rolls over, away, and mumbles, “Night Lukey.” 

The moment’s passed. Luke feels kind of regretful and hopeless. He tucks his arms around himself and focuses on the steady sound of Michael’s breath until it lulls him to sleep. 

…

It becomes a regular thing. Ashton always wants to sleep first, which means they’re kicked off the Xbox in the lounge and sent upstairs, and Calum settles down not long after, so Luke and Michael traipse off into his room.

It’s not like it’s their intention to climb into bed together every night, but they have to be close so they can both see and hear the laptop, and then it gets late and they get too sleepy and moving just doesn’t make sense, especially not when they’ve already pulled the covers up to keep warm. And then they get talking.

Michael always wants to talk about everything - wide eyed, tucked on his side facing Luke in the dark when they’ve finished messing around on his laptop or their phones. There’s a lot to talk about. Meetings and writing sessions and rehearsal, plans and ideas for the band. Michael talks more in the short time alone with Luke than he does during the entire day. Luke thinks Michael must just be one of those people whose brain just works better at night time. It makes him feel good anyway, privileged and special to hear all Michael’s thoughts.

It reminds Luke of Aleisha, of long hot days during summer break when his mum and dad were at work so they could hide away up in his room without getting caught. They’d just lie on his bed with their fingers laced and talk about everything and nothing, and Luke liked that better than anything, better than kissing, better than sex. There’s nothing he couldn’t tell her, and he loved that she felt the same. He’d say the dumbest shit to her, about the two of them getting famous playing songs together, about travelling the world and being by each other’s sides, together forever. It makes him miss her, but of course it’s a little different, with Michael.

It’s not just dumb fantasy now. They have fans who like the songs they play together, and they’re in _London_ , a long way from duets in school assembly. Also, of course, Michael isn’t his girlfriend. 

But still, he’s glad it’s Michael there by his side.   
…

They’re just settling down to sleep. They’ve been sharing for a week straight now, and they’ve got the routine down, so it’s a surprise when instead of closing his eyes like usual, Michael’s staring wide eyed at Luke, eyes shining in the dark, face close. 

It’s as if Michael had been waiting for Luke to notice him looking. “Hey,” he says with a pointless little shuffle of limbs under the blankets. “I wanna tell you something.” He’s whispering properly, not the usual hushed voice he uses for their bro talks. He shifts again. He seems restless. 

“Yeah?” Luke prompts him. Michael’s never needed the encouragement to whisper secrets in the dark before.

“It’s just, I haven’t told anyone,” he looks at Luke and even in the dark Luke can make out the serious expression on his face. “I mean, ever. No one. But I feel weird, so I think I should.”

Luke nods, and shifts a bit closer. “I won’t tell anyone,” he promises.

“Okay,” Michael breathes out, and then rolls onto his back, looks at the ceiling. “Don’t be weird. But like, I guess I’m bi?”

Michael swallows. Luke hears it, sees his Adam’s apple bob. 

“Okay,” Luke says. Michael turns onto his side, facing him again. His eyes search Luke’s face, the whites of his eyes shining in the dark. Luke feels like he’s supposed to say something more. He feels like whatever he says is going to be the wrong thing. He frowns. “You like guys.”

“And girls,” Michael says quickly. 

“Yeah,” Luke nods and then shrugs. A short, jerky movement. It feels unnatural. Everything does. Heightened. Luke’s keenly aware of the position of their bodies, tense enough that his neck is starting to hurt. 

“I haven’t,” Michael licks his lips, voice breathless and rushed out, “with a guy. Yet. But I want to.” 

“Have you kissed a guy?” Luke asks, surprising himself. Michael shakes his head. The silence stretches over long seconds, and then, “Me neither,” Luke says, finally. Michael huffs out a little surprised laugh, and just like that, the tense moment breaks, and Luke relaxes again. 

Michael squirms a bit, getting comfortable again on his side facing Luke. “I just thought I should tell you,” he says, his eyes slipping closed, blankets tucked up under his chin like usual. 

“Thanks,” Luke says, without really knowing why, and then wriggles close to put his arm around Michael’s middle. It’s the most awkward hug ever, but Luke thinks it’s important, and Michael makes a surprised, pleased sound, anyway. Luke pulls away and tucks himself back into his own little patch of Michael’s bed.

It takes Luke a long time to find sleep.

…

The news isn’t that shocking to Luke, really. Like, it’s a shock, but one that’s easily absorbed. It makes sense. They all joke about about stuff all the time - Ashton even broke Calum’s bed during one bout of ferocious giggly humping. Of course Michael’s the one to be legit about it, not that Luke thinks Michael wants to fuck any of them. It just makes him seem cooler. Michael’s always been cooler about sex stuff than any of them. He was the first one to lose his virginity, and the one they’ve all gone to, Luke’s sure, for advice on how to go down on girls. Of course he’s cool enough to like guys too. Of course he’s brave enough to admit it. 

Luke just assumed he was straight because that’s what everyone does, right? Why would he think otherwise? Sure, Michael’s talked about how he’d totally blow Alex Gaskarth, but wouldn’t everyone? Luke would, and he’s not gay. Or bi. Or. The point is, Luke hasn’t thought about it before, just like he’s never thought to question his own straightness either. 

…

Luke has questions prepared that night. In fact, Luke finds his way into Michael’s room before anyone else has turned in, while the the lights throughout the house are still blazing bright. 

Michael’s sitting cross legged on his bed, earphones in, laptop open in front of him. He looks up when Luke enters but doesn’t take his earphones out until Luke’s crossed the room and sat himself down on the end of his bed. Michael smiles at him and offers one earphone to him. 

“What is it?” Luke asks. 

“Old Blink,” Michael says. Luke takes the headphone and scuttles up the bed so it’ll reach his ear. Michael doesn’t question that he’s early, just picks up his laptop and rearranges himself against the headboard, making room for Luke to settle into his usual spot beside him. 

It’s _First Date_ , one of Luke’s own favourite Blink songs. He nods his head along and Michael smiles sideways at him, close and soft. It makes Luke feel kind of weird, nervous. He breaks the eye contact, glancing at Michael’s screen. 

“Oh my god, I have to show you this thing,” Michael says then, dragging the computer up and settling closer against Luke as he brings up some meme in an open tab. 

_I dread the thought of our very first kiss, I told your dad I’m probably gonna miss._

Luke saves his questions for later. 

…

They get sent to bed once they start screaming along to _Happy Holidays, You Bastard_ with a stern word from Liz. 

“Go brush your teeth, brats,” Liz says from the doorway. Luke laughs, still caught up in the adrenaline of actually shouting lyrics about dads jacking people off and ejaculating into socks. Michael looks chastised though, eyes averted and cheeks pink, subdued like he actually feels bad, like he wasn’t totally joyfully daring Luke to shout the dirty parts of the song louder than him a second ago.

Michael hops up off the bed and scuttles out of the room, ducking past Liz who lingers, giving Luke a look he can’t work out the meaning of. It’s unsettling, though. 

The grin fades from his face. “I will, after Mikey.” 

“I know,” she says. She looks around the room, at the bare mattress of Ashton’s unoccupied bed. “You’re sleeping in here again tonight?” She asks, and Luke’s face goes hot.

He didn’t realise she’d noticed where he’d been sleeping. He wonders if Ashton or Calum know, too. Of course Calum does - he hasn’t come back to his own bed in Calum’s room in over a week now. 

“Um,” he sits up, and for the first time feels out of place on Michael’s bed. He feels guilty. He wishes she’d stop looking at him. He shrugs. “Dunno, maybe. We’re gonna watch the next episode of Game of Thrones.” 

He could say that Michael doesn’t like sleeping alone, tell her about how Michael gets homesick at night, but it feels wrong even just thinking about sharing something Michael’s told him like that. That’s not really all of it, either. There’s Ashton’s bed, empty every night while the two of them squish up into Michael’s single. He doesn’t know how to explain that. He doesn’t know what to say. And it makes him feel kind of sick. 

“Alright,” she says finally. Luke’s so relieved when she turns away. “Don’t stay up too late,” she says as she goes. 

He’s relieved but the unease lingers. He thinks of what Michael told him, about being bi. If he tells everyone else and they all know that Luke’s been sleeping with him every night, they’ll think, surely, that something weird’s going on between them. Won’t they? And that’s - Luke swallows. His heart is beating hard.

Why should it freak him out if someone thinks him and Michael are, what? Fooling around? They’re not. Just because someone’s not straight doesn’t mean they want to have sex with every guy they know, it’s dumb to think that. That’s just what he’ll have to say to them. 

Luke tells himself to be brave, like Mikey.

…

Clean toothed and changed out of his jeans, Luke settles into his spot against the wall as Michael switches the light off and crawls in next to him. It’s a relief, the darkness, the rest of the house shut out, just him and Mikey.

“Do you wanna watch something?” Michael asks, close and quiet in the dark. 

Luke shrugs. He doesn’t really feel like it anymore. He’s tired, and confused, and he still has his questions, still needs to know - 

“How come you told me?” he asks.

“I dunno,” he shrugs, but Luke feels like there’s more, like he’s been waiting for Luke to ask, or at least thinking about the answer himself. Sure enough, Michael sighs, and then speaks again, quietly, “‘Cause we’re, you’re in my bed, I guess. I didn’t want you to think I was like,” he pauses and fidgets with the edge of his doona. “If you found out later, didn’t want you to be creeped out,” he mumbles.

“Oh,” Luke says. He frowns. “I wouldn’t be creeped out. Should I be creeped out?”

Michael shrugs. “I don’t know.” 

“Would Cal be creeped out? Or Ashton?”

“I don’t know,” Michael repeats. His voice sounds small. Luke tries to make out his face but his eyes are still adjusting to the dark. “Do you think,” Michael hesitates, “they would be?”

“No,” Luke says quickly, knows that’s what he’s supposed to say even if he has no idea how Calum and Ashton would feel. But, of course it would be fine. They love him as much as Luke does. It doesn’t change anything, even though they joke about gay stuff and act grossed out, but that doesn’t mean anything. “There’s nothing creepy about it,” Luke says firmly.

Michael looks at him and now Luke can make out the shine of his eyes, the curve of his mouth as he smiles at him gratefully. “Are you gonna tell them?” Luke asks.

Michael sighs and rolls onto his back, draws his hands out from under the blankets and smoothes them down his front, tucking the blankets tight around himself. “I guess,” he says. 

He stares up at the ceiling for a long moment, chin tipped up and throat bobbing as he swallows, as if he’s fighting with the words in there. Keeping them down or trying to force them out, Luke doesn’t know, but he gets the urge to hug him again. Luke shifts a little closer, his knees bumping up against Michael’s thigh under the blanket. 

“I’m scared,” Michael says, and turns to him, a look on his face like he’s embarrassed, ready to laugh it off, like he thinks Luke would laugh at him, now.

Luke leans in then, darts forward really, not thinking until the last second, and so his lips land mostly on Michael’s cheek, the corner of his mouth just catching Michael’s. 

They stay frozen like that for maybe half a second. Luke’s heart bangs in his chest. He draws back, his head falling back onto his half of the pillow. _Fuck,_ Luke thinks, _what?_

Michael’s looking at him with wide eyes, lips parted. Luke’s mouth feels like it’s tingling. “You shouldn’t be scared,” he says, his voice wavering.

“Okay,” Michael says slowly.

Luke rolls onto his back, matches Michael’s position, their shoulders pressed tight together. He looks at the ceiling, blinks. “I don’t know why I just did that,” he admits quietly.

“It’s okay,” Michael says. He sounds weird, too. He’s fidgeting again, moving his arm, the one pressed to Luke’s, and Luke wonders if he’s trying to move away, if he doesn’t want to be touching him, but then, oh, his fingers find Luke’s hand, and curl hesitantly around it. 

“Yeah,” Luke says breathlessly. His heart is beating so hard still. _Thud, thud, thud_ , and he doesn’t understand anything at all.

“Yeah,” Michael echoes, and squeezes his hand. Luke squeezes back.

He can feel Michael looking at him, so he closes his eyes, goes still. Like he could ever just go to sleep, now. He hears Michael lick his lips, hears him breathe, feels his fingers twitch against his own. 

After a moment, he says, “Goodnight Luke.”

Luke doesn’t reply, just keeps his eyes closed, keeps hold of his hand. 

He says awake long enough to feel Michael’s grip on his hand go lax as his breath evens out, and then for some time after.

…

The following night, by the time the movie’s over, nothing’s happened. Michael puts his laptop on the floor, settles back under the blankets. They’re so close, curled on their sides, facing each other. It seems closer than ever before, but Luke knows that can’t be true. The bed’s the same size as always. They take up just as much room as usual. 

Michael’s eyes are closed, but Luke can tell he’s not sleeping. He can tell that now, he knows what Michael looks like when he’s asleep. Their hands rest in the small space between their curved bodies, so close Luke’s knuckles brush against Michael’s. He barely has to move at all to curl his fingers around Michael’s. 

Michael’s eyes flick open. Luke squeezes his own shut. It’s cowardly, and worse than the cowardice itself is the fact Michael’s caught him. Luke doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. 

Luke feels Michael move closer though, feels his breath on his face, warm and damp and minty. Their bare knees press together. Luke tips his chin up, his cheek brushing Michael’s before he finds his lips with his own.

Luke gasps, can’t help it, his body flushing hot from the very first touch. Michael’s fingers brush against his cheek hesitantly, his mouth opening against Luke’s, and Luke curls his hand clumsily around the back of Michael’s neck, pulls him closer, kisses him back.

It’s awkward, straining his neck up to meet Michael, Michael leaning towards him but their bodies held curiously apart. It’s good though. It’s been so long since Luke’s kissed anyone, but Luke doubts there’s any amount of kisses that could’ve prepared him for what this feels like. 

Michael’s mouth is hot and soft and when his tongue brushes against Luke’s bottom lip, Luke shudders. He’s not sure he’s ever done that before. Nobody’s ever made him do that before. Luke opens his mouth to Michael’s tongue in eager curiosity, meets it with his own in a hot, slick drag that makes Luke’s tummy flip. 

Michael’s thumb presses into Luke’s jaw, his fingers threading into the hair behind his ear, nails scratching at his scalp. Luke breaks out in goosebumps. His whole body feels charged, his skin feels like it’s sparking, Michael tastes like toothpaste, like kisses, and Luke wants more.

Michael wriggles his arm under Luke and Luke’s head settles into the crook of his elbow like it was meant to be there. He shifts onto his back, holding tight to Michael to keep him close, to keep the kiss going as Michael half shifts on top of him, pressing Luke down into his arms and kissing him harder. Luke gives as good as he’s getting, his arm wrapped around Michael’s waist. 

Michael’s hand strokes down his cheek, his throat, scrunches into a fist in the front of Luke’s shirt. He drags his mouth away, and mumbles, “You want this, right? You want this?”

Luke nods. He does, he does. He _knows_ it. “I do,” he gasps, and tightens his grip on Michael, tilts his face up to Michael’s, mouth brushing against his, refusing to open his eyes.

“Luke,” Michael croaks and kisses him again, hand heavy on Luke’s chest, body moving against Luke’s own in time with the wet catch and slide of their lips. It’s like Michael wants to climb right on top of him but he’s holding back, his knee nudging Luke’s thigh over and over until Luke shifts his legs apart to slip his thigh under Michael’s, draw him closer, his hands on Michael’s back slipping lower under the blankets until they find a burning hot strip of exposed skin, Michael’s shirt ridden up.

Michael hooks his leg over Luke’s and hauls himself close, his body pressed against Luke’s side. His thigh strays too close between Luke’s legs, brushes against Luke’s dick, and Luke gasps, nails digging into the small of Michael’s back. His mind races with the realisation that he’s hard and that Michael can feel it, he doesn’t want to think about what that means but he has to know if Michael is with him, is just as into this as he is. He pushes himself against Michael, and Luke can feel everything. He can feel him hard, can feel his mouth stutter against his own when he presses his hip up between his legs. 

Luke drowns in sensation, his blood rushing in his veins, his mind gone stupid and lungs starved for air. He wants more, curling his tongue against Michael’s, pushing his hands up under Michael’s shirt, addicted to the feel of his soft skin, the heat of him. He rocks his hips up against Michael, for more of the muted heat of Michael’s cock rubbing against him through their shorts, to push his own clumsy erection against Michael’s thigh, which, it just feels so _good_ , how can anything else matter?

Michael’s mouth is wrenched from his, then, and Luke makes a small noise of distress, straining up. His mouth feels swollen and hot and made for Michael, but Michael doesn’t lean back in. He just lays against him panting. They both are, their bodies shifting against each other with every deep, gasped breath.

Reluctantly, Luke opens his eyes. It’s dark but he can see clearly the way Michael’s looking at him, close and clear and sharp. It makes Luke want to squirm, want to hide. Michael licks his lip and Luke just wants to be kissing him again, so bad. 

“Do you wanna spoon?” Michael asks, voice cracking. 

Luke blinks, thrown, brain muzzy with the things he wants, but all he knows how to say to Michael right now is, “Yes,” voice wrecked, rough and breathless.

Michael shifts away from him and it’s horrible even though they’re still touching, Luke’s head still cradled in Michael’s arm. “Turn over,” Michael says, soft and deep. It makes Luke want to shudder again; feels like his whole world clicking into place with just one simple instruction.

Michael nudges at Luke’s shoulder and Luke shifts onto his side, facing the wall. Michael presses up behind him, knees slotting in behind Luke’s, and Luke feels caged in, weighed down by the close heat of Michael’s body. Michael wraps his arm around him, presses his palm against Luke’s chest and pulls him back even tighter, a hesitant shift of his hips tilting in, and then, his hard cock, tucked against the top of Luke’s ass. 

“Your heart’s beating so hard,” Michael says, voice quiet and close to Luke’s ear, breath hot on his neck. His hand slips from Luke’s chest but only to push up under the hem of his t-shirt, to press bare over Luke’s thudding heart.

“Yours is too,” Luke says. He can feel it against his shoulder blades, in his pelvis, in Michael’s fingertips touching his skin.

They stay like that for a moment, their bodies pounding together in the silence. Michael’s breath slowly returns to normal, Luke’s too, matching his. The effect is drugging, heavy. Luke drags his hand up and it feels like it weighs a ton, his movement slowed. He covers Michael’s hand on his chest with his own, his shirt separating their skin, their skin separating their hearts.

Michael swallows. He’s so close Luke hears it, feels his jaw work against his shoulder. “I think we should sleep,” Michael says slowly.

Luke wants to scream _How????_. Instead, he nods and settles back against Michael to get comfortable, his pulse jumping when he hears Michael’s breath catch in his ear at the shift against his cock. “Yeah,” he agrees helplessly, “okay. Goodnight.”

“Night,” Michael replies, lips brushing thrillingly, fleetingly, against Luke’s throat. 

Luke does his best to mimic what he hopes he’s like when he’s sleeping. He’s so aware of how he can tell when Michael’s faking, but he keeps still, lets his body fall heavy into Michael’s, breathes deep, even, counting; _in 2, 3, out 2, 3,_ to make sure. 

Michael stays tense, awake, Luke feels it with his whole body. He tries to stir convincingly when Michael shifts, draws away so hesitant and careful that Luke’s sure he’s got him fooled. Michael slips out of the bed and Luke just feels lonely and cold without him there. He hears the bedroom door open, hears Michael’s bare feet on the floorboards in the hall. 

He’s not gone for long, but longer than he should be, longer than Luke can account for; long enough for Luke to panic in his absence, thinking that he’s gone to sleep in the other room. At least Luke could do something about his dick situation then. 

But Michael does come back, the door closing softly behind him before the mattress dips as he crawls back into bed. 

Luke stays still as Michael fits his body back against his own, drapes his arm over his waist, tucking close and breathing a deep sigh, nose pressed to the back of Luke's neck. He’s not hard anymore. He smells like soap, and come.

…

Luke can’t stop thinking about it, about Michael’s mouth and his kisses and his hands on his skin. His dick against his ass. When he goes to piss first thing in the morning his face gets hot in the bathroom doorway with the realisation that Michael most likely jerked off in there last night. Because of him. His tummy clenches. He wasn’t planning it, but after he flushes the toilet he strips off and gets in the shower, hides under the hot spray and wraps his hand around his cock, hoping if he just jerks off it’ll ease the constant barrage of sexy Michael thoughts. 

It doesn’t work, and Luke spends the day catching himself staring at Michael’s mouth, and only barely stopping himself from reaching out and touching him when he’s close. Michael looks over at him during practice, his mouth open against his microphone as he makes eye contact and Luke blushes so bad he fucks up a chord. And when Michael sits next to him on the couch after dinner, close enough that their arms and shoulders and thighs touch, Luke’s scared he’s gonna pop a boner just like that.

He wonders if Michael’s struggling as much as he is but is just better at hiding it. He wonders if it’s because he’s not gay that he’s so freaked out about it. He wonders if it’d be better to go back to his own bed that night, but of course, he doesn’t. 

“It’s my turn to be little spoon,” Michael says as he climbs into bed next to Luke. He seems chipper about it, smiling down at Luke from on his hands and knees.

Luke gulps. The problem is, is that all day Luke’s been fighting to keep his dick down and now, here, alone with Michael in his room again, in his bed with him again, well. He’s losing. He’s half hard just lying there, hidden in the folds of the blankets, but not for long if Michael’s expecting him to spoon him.

Michael lays down, curling up on his side facing away from Luke. He shuffles back, closer, expectantly. Luke puts his arm around him, gets close enough that his chest is pressed to his back, but keeps his hips tilted away. It’s far from comfortable, but Luke will put up with it to have Michael close again. It’s what he’s wanted all day, he realises, Michael’s touch satisfying the restlessness, the itch.

Luke can’t let him feel that he’s hard, not until he figures out why Michael wanted to stop last night. He just can’t work it out; Michael was hard as well, he wanted it too, right? Luke felt it, and Luke _liked_ how that felt. Luke’s been trying to avoid thinking about what that means. That he kissed Michael, that he kissed a boy, and he got hard, and he liked it, and he wants to do it again and again and again.

Two possibilities; 1. he’s gay. Or bi. Or something. Michaelsexual. _Or_ , 2. he’s just a perverted weirdo so desperate for sex he’ll get it wherever he can. Luke’s not sure which he prefers. But Michael _is_ bi, he told him, and that means he likes guys and dicks and doing sexy stuff with both, right? And Luke’s a guy, with a dick! 

It hurts to think maybe, maybe Michael just doesn’t want him. Luke knows how easy it is to get hard. One time he got it up for the sexy girl penguin in _Surf’s Up_ but that doesn’t mean he wants to fuck _penguins_ , right? 

Michael pulls at the blankets, tugging them from between their bodies, and wriggles back determinedly to fit his ass into the curve of Luke’s body, past Luke’s last defenses, right up against his erection. Michael goes still, and then says, “I can feel that, you know.” 

Luke’s pulse pounds hot in his ears, humiliated. “Yeah, sorry, I,” he stutters quietly, flustered, and tries to pull his hips back, put some space between Michael’s ass and his dick, but Michael reaches his hand back to his hip and stills him.

“It’s okay,” Michael says, and lets go when Luke stops pulling away, puts his hand over Luke’s on his chest instead, fingers curling around his palm. “Here,” he says and pushes Luke’s hand down his body, guides it to the front of his underwear. “Me too.” 

Michael’s dick is half hard under Luke’s palm. It feels absurd, both their hands resting in Michael’s crotch. Michael doesn’t make him move his hand or anything, just takes his away and leaves Luke touching him on his own. “Oh,” Luke says, so aware of his hand and the soft cotton under it, the warmth and hardness he can feel through it. He wants to curl his hand around it, learn what Michael’s cock really feels like.

“Um, yeah,” Michael says. Luke’s nerve fails and his hand twitches, drawing back a little to curl on Michael’s hip. Michael sighs. “This isn’t just. Like just because I said I’m bi doesn’t mean I’m gonna,” Michael makes a frustrated noise, “I thought you were _straight_.”

“Me too,” Luke says. Michael turns under Luke’s arm, facing him. He looks just as confused as Luke feels. 

“So what? You’re gay? You’re bi now, too?”

“I don’t know.” 

“You can’t like, use me to figure it out, like an experiment,” Michael says softly, gaze averted. 

Luke’s head spins - he’d never, he didn’t know Michael would think that, he can’t believe it. “That’s not -” he starts, but Michael interrupts him. 

“Like, I love you, you’re my best friend. Imagine if -,” he trails off, and then reaches for Luke’s hand again, squeezes it. “I don’t wanna lose you.” 

Luke shakes his head, holds tight onto Michael’s hand. “You’re my best friend too, I’d never, I just,” Luke frowns. He’s just so confused, he doesn’t know what to say, what he’s thinking, how he feels, just that he’s an asshole and he _wants_ Michael and it’s a bad idea and they’re _friends_. 

That’s what Michael said, best friends. Which means they can’t.

“I don’t know,” Luke mumbles, defeated. Michael’s looking at him like he’s waiting for an explanation, his green eyes hard. Luke wishes so bad he knew what to say, how to explain. His throat feels dry. He looks into Michael’s eyes, and tries, tells him the only thing he knows for sure even if he doesn’t understand it, his voice croaking helplessly, “I just - I want. You.”

Michael’s hand jerks in Luke’s grip, his face falling soft, his eyes searching Luke’s, his lips parting. “Well, fuck,” he mutters and presses forward, catches Luke’s mouth in a hard kiss. 

Luke gasps, biting his own lips with the force of the sudden contact. He kisses back though, leaning into it, his hand slipping out of Michael’s grip to wrap around him tight and pull him closer, press their bodies together, chest to chest. Michael does the same, his hands on Luke’s hip, his back, clinging to him with the same intensity. It’s so different than before, harder now, needier, but it feels just as good, just as electrifying. 

Luke moans as Michael pushes him over onto his back and crawls on top of him. Their hips line up and Luke shivers, pushes his thighs apart and shifts just a little, fitting their hips together just right. Michael’s cock drags against his own through their underwear, hot and hard, and he whimpers, his hands flexing on Michael’s hips, squeezing.

“Fuck,” Michael gasps, the kiss breaking. He pushes up on his elbows, ducks his head to look down between their bodies, his head in the way so Luke can’t see too, but he can _feel_ Michael dragging his hips in a slow circle, rubbing the full length of his cock against his own. Luke shudders at the feeling of it; the hot teasing rub, the shift of the fabric against his sensitive cockhead. Michael’s hands fist in the sheets next to Luke’s shoulders and he does it again, and again, rocking against Luke in an easy rhythm as he pants. 

He lifts his head up and Luke hopes he looks nearly as good as Michael does, the hectic flush in his cheeks suits him so well, makes his eyes bright green and his mouth look even redder. Michael bites into the swell of his bottom lip, and Luke wants to kiss him so he does, tips his face up. Michael meets the kiss eagerly, the steady rock of his hips faltering for a moment as Luke curls his tongue into his mouth. 

Luke pushes his hips up, pulls Michael’s hips down, everything in him pounding like his pulse for more, tighter, harder. It’s barely a tease, the rub of Michael’s cock against his own. Michael gasps and reaches down, grabbing onto Luke’s hip, clumsily catching in the fabric of Luke’s underwear as he gropes at his ass, hauls him in and tips onto his side, drags Luke with him, on top of him. 

Luke gasps, surprised and turned on by Michael’s hands on his ass, by Michael under him now. Michael bites and tugs at Luke’s lip and Luke shudders, a shock of pleasure rolling down his spine, through his tummy, making him shove his hips down against Michael hard and quick, rutting against him determinedly for a hot moment. 

Michael pulls away panting, shifting against the mattress with the force of Luke’s body against his. He squeezes Luke’s ass and Luke moans, looking Michael in the eye now. “Tell me what you want,” Michael says and Luke’s thrusts falter, almost falling still against Michael. 

“More,” is all Luke can think of, his voice weak. He feels stupid, embarrassed by his need, the words he can’t find.

Michael smiles at him though. One of his hands slips up to Luke’s waist, and the other nudges under the waistband of Luke’s shorts. “Can I - um, do you want to take these off?” 

“Yes,” Luke says, “please,” he adds. Michael drags them down, fingers sliding over the bare skin of Luke’s ass and down his thighs. Luke shudders and shifts his legs, shimmying his undies down and kicking them off to get lost in the sheets. “You too,” he says, fingers hesitant at Michael’s waistband. Michael lifts his hips in permission and Luke pushes his pants down too, doesn’t bother trying to get them off all the way though, too eager to feel Michael bare against himself. 

Michael breathes out long and shaky as Luke presses himself down against him, carefully, his cock bumping into the groove of Michael’s hip, Michael’s own hot and smooth and perfect against his skin. Michael puts his arm around Luke, hugs him, and fuck, Luke needs it. It’s just so much, Michael’s soft skin, his hard cock. 

He melts against Michael’s chest, his mouth against his cheek. He curls his arm around under Michael’s shoulder and pushes his fingers into his hair, cupping the round of his skull. Michael breathes hot in his ear, his legs spread and his hips rocking up against Luke’s. 

“Is this all you want? Is this enough?” Michael asks breathily, stroking the base of Luke’s spine as they move together, rubbing against each other.

“Kiss me?” Luke asks meekly, and Michael turns his face to his immediately, kisses him soft and lush. “Touch me,” Luke murmurs even quieter. “Please.”

“Yeah Lukey, I will,” Michael mumbles back, lips moving against Luke’s. His hand pushes between them and finds Luke’s cock, fits around it. Luke gasps into Michael’s mouth, his hips twitching, his chest swelling. “You feel so good,” Michael says and Luke groans, cock throbbing in Michael’s hand. 

Michael strokes him clumsily, the angle awkward, but it’s so perfect that Luke’s trembling with it. He tries to kiss Michael, to think of something to say, but all he can think about is the feeling of Michael’s hand wrapped around him, his forearm against Luke’s belly, his shoulder bumping against Luke’s as he strokes him. He can feel himself smearing Michael’s palm slick when it brushes against the head of his cock and it’s so hot, makes his tummy jerk and his thighs clench with wanting to come. 

“Here,” Michael says and pushes at Luke’s shoulder, tips them back onto their sides. He switches hands, gets a proper grip on Luke’s dick, hand wrapped around him tight so he can jack him quick. 

“Oh god,” Luke whines.

“Me too?” Michael asks, his hips bumping forward. Luke doesn’t know how he’s going to manage, his hips fucking jerkily into Michael’s fist, but he reaches down and wraps his hand around Michael’s cock anyway, feeling it twitch in his grip.

It’s thick and hot and smooth. Luke moans, strokes him but not very smoothly, mostly just like moving his hand on his cock, but he just can’t think, can’t focus. Michael’s hips push into his touch and Luke tries harder, frowning and licking his lips and tightening his grip. It makes Michael moan and the sound of that, makes Luke come. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Michael hisses, his own hips jerking forward as Luke groans and shoots his load between them, over his fist. His hand on Michael’s dick fails completely but he’s not even aware of it, not aware of anything at all for a hot second, blind when he leans forward and bumps his face against Michael’s, their mouths meeting but not kissing, just gasping together, damp and hot. 

Michael lets him go and covers Luke’s slack hand on his dick with his own, sticky with Luke’s come. He wraps Luke’s fingers around him and guides Luke’s hand in quick, tight strokes. Luke just lets him, stupid and stunned and overwhelmed, wishing he could do more, knowing he’d do anything for Michael in this moment.

He can kiss him, at least. He slips his tongue between Michael’s lips to slide against his, slipping hot and slow together, wet and dirty. Michael moans, his body starting to tense, his hand moving quicker. “Fuck,” he gasps, “m’gonna come, I’m gonna,” and Luke wants it so bad, only has to wait another second before Michael’s holding his breath and then shuddering, releasing. Luke pulls away to watch Michael’s come spitting out over their hands, landing on the sheets, dripping down their fists. 

Michael tucks his face against Luke’s throat and pants, releases his hold on Luke’s hand on his cock. Luke feels gutted and brand new, wondering at the come on his hand, at the shocking pound of his heart and the thrill of joy in his chest at all of it.

“I guess,” Michael slurs, leaning back and reaching behind himself, wiping his come into the sheets, “the experiment was successful after all.” 

Luke frowns, confused. Experiment. Successful. But before Luke can even try to work out what he’s talking about, Michael gives him a wobbly smile and then rolls over, takes Luke’s hand and drags his arm around him.

“I still call little spoon,” he mumbles and Luke plasters himself to Michael’s back, squeezes him tight. He feels giddy and tired and happy and so close to Michael now, even if Michael’s confusing. 

“I don’t know what that means,” Luke says sleepily, his lips against Michael’s shoulder.

Michael yawns and pats his hand. “Don’t worry,” he says, but Luke is, though not nearly enough to keep his eyelids from drooping in his post-orgasm state. 

“Okay,” Luke says, “goodnight, then.”

“Night, Lukey,” Michael mumbles.

…

“I decided it’s okay,” Michael says as he climbs into bed the following night, having shut off the light. He doesn’t get under the covers like Luke, but stretches out beside him. Luke forgets to try and work out what Michael’s saying, too busy staring down the length of Michael’s body laid out next to him. He’s in a t-shirt and boxer shorts, like always, like Luke is too, but it seems different; the way Michael’s lying, it feels like he wants to be looked at. Which is good, because Luke’s not even sure he could stop if Michael wanted him to. 

It’s probably because of what happened between them last night, but Luke’s eyes keep getting drawn to the front of Michael’s pants, to the shape of his soft cock and balls there under the cotton. Luke remembers all too clearly what it felt like to touch Michael. 

“What?” he asks and forces his eyes to drag back up past Michael’s smirk to meet his eyes.

“If you,” Michael pauses and rolls closer, onto his side and then over onto his front, not enough room in the bed so he ends up half on top of Luke. He turns his face against Luke’s shoulder and Luke feels his breath there, warm and damp. Michael licks his lips and reaches for the pillow their heads share, picking at the edge of it absently. “If you don’t know if you like guys. If you’re just figuring it out,” his eyes meet Luke’s, close and shy, “with me.”

“Oh,” Luke says, blushing. Michael smiles, but it’s the gentle, soft kind. It’s totally bizarre but Luke feels more embarrassed and awkward talking about this stuff than when he was like, coming all over Michael’s fist. 

“Yeah, cause, before last night, I hadn’t done anything with a guy either, even though I know that I’m, whatever. But it’s good right? To practice. So I’m not like a total noob when it comes to, like, having sex with…” 

Michael trails off, but Luke knows how the sentence ends. _Other guys_. Something twists in Luke’s gut at the thought of it, of Michael with other guys. Other guys kissing him and touching him and making him come. Luke swallows. 

“Um,” he says. It’s hard, trying to think, with Michael pressed against him, Michael’s mouth so close. It looks good. Luke just wants to kiss him. And not. Not if Michael’s just kissing him so he can be good at kissing other guys when he gets sick of kissing Luke or whatever.

Which isn’t fair, really, if it’s like Michael says, if he’s just kissing him to try and figure out if he likes guys, if he’s just curious. That’s _not_ why, it can’t be. Honestly, Luke would rather not know if he’s sorta gay or bi or whatever other options there are. He’d be totally happy remaining blissfully, ignorantly straight forever. But he wants to kiss Michael. And he wants to kiss Michael because he wants to kiss Michael. Other guys, or girls, they have nothing to do with wanting to kiss Michael.

Michael pushes closer to Luke, lifting his head and his knee, hitching his leg up over Luke’s thigh and shoving the blankets down with his foot. He leans up on his elbow, planting his chin in his palm, and Luke feels so looked at, exposed without the blanket, with Michael looking down at him. It’s scary, Luke’s not sure what Michael might be seeing as his eyes drag down his body. 

“So, if you’re using me and I’m using you, it’s okay, yeah? If we’re using each other?” Michael asks, looking at Luke earnestly. It hurts to hear it, to think about Michael using him, to think about Michael believing that he would do that to him. 

Luke shakes his head. He’s so confused. He’s not - he never wanted to use Michael, it’s not like that at all, and he wants to tell Michael so so badly, set him straight, but he can’t find the words, and then - and then Michael’s touching him. He’s pushing his hand up under the hem of Luke’s t-shirt, heavy and warm on his belly, sliding up. Luke’s breath catches, shifting under the weight of Michael’s palm and exhaling shakily. Words. Talking - he’s gotta think - find something to say, but.

Michael pushes his shirt up and Luke shivers, his nipples pinching tight as his chest is bared to the cold air. Michael’s touch is warming; his hand stroking over his ribs, down the dip of his waist, over his tightly held tummy to the sensitive valley between his hipbones. His fingers trace low there and Luke’s hips jump, eager. He’s so hard already, and Michael’s seeing everything, all of him, and he’s just frozen.

“Take off your pants,” Michael says, low and husky. 

It’s all Luke needs to spring into action, Michael’s direction. He doesn’t have to think, doesn’t have to know anything if he’s just doing what Michael says. Luke scrambles for his waistband, pushing his underwear down his thighs, kicking and squirming until he’s free, his pants lost somewhere in the tangle of the sheets at the bottom of the bed. Luke flushes at the eager sight of his bare cock, rosy pink, lying full against his tummy.

Michael traces down the line of Luke’s hip, his cock twitching embarrassingly as Michael’s hand gets closer. He wants Michael’s touch there so bad, he’s holding his breath waiting for it, everything in his body concentrating on being still, on hoping, on making it happen, guiding Michael’s hand there with the sheer power of his will.

It doesn’t work; Michael’s palm travels steadily on down, bypassing his cock and stroking smoothly down his thigh instead. Luke huffs, he can’t help it. Michael’s _teasing_ him, just looking at him; looking at his body and seeing every soft part of him. It feels like Michael can see right through his skin, see all the gross stuff inside him, the stuff in his brain he’s been too shy to share yet. It’s so hard to keep from curling up, hiding. 

It’s one thing to be exposed in the heat of the moment, to be seen when there’s someone else to see too, but this is different. Michael’s taking his time, and his touch feels nice, but not nice enough to distract Luke from the steady creeping in of doubt and questions. He feels like such a kid still. The same one Michael used to hate, chubby and clueless and shy. Michael’s changed so much since then.

Michael’s thumb digs into the delicate muscle on the inside of Luke’s thigh, and Luke can’t bear to watch anymore. He closes his eyes and reaches for his shirt, pulling it back down over his chest and tummy. 

“Hey,” Michael says, his touch disappearing from Luke’s skin as he grabs for the hem of his shirt. Luke holds it down stubbornly, frowning and keeping his eyes shut tight; it makes it feel less scary. If I can’t see you, you can’t see me. “Hey,” Michael repeats, giving up on the shirt and cupping his warm palm over Luke’s cock instead. 

Luke knows he’s gone a little soft, and that makes him feel worst of all. Makes him hate his stupid body even more. “Sorry,” he mumbles, and opens his eyes to a look of blatant concern on Michael’s face that just doubles Luke’s guilt.

“No, it’s fine,” Michael says, and takes his hand away, takes his whole body away really, still lying close but drawing into himself a little. “I don’t mind if- is it too much? We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to,” Luke says earnestly, turning his face to meet Michael’s eyes so he knows he’s not just saying so. He does, he wants, he just wants to be what Michael wants.

“It doesn’t seem like it,” Michael says quietly. “Am I doing something wrong?” 

Luke shakes his head. “No,” he says, bites his lip. “It’s just -” Luke groans. He doesn’t want to have to admit it, it seems so dumb and _girly_. Luke grimaces. “You should be doing this with someone hotter than me,” he says, hating himself. Luke can just imagine the kind of guys Michael will end up hooking up with, guys way cooler and hotter than him. Michael will look back and totally regret wasting his time and his handjobs on Luke.

Luke reaches down to grab the blankets, to drag them back up over himself, but Michael stops him, his hand on Luke’s fistfull of blankets. “What?” he asks, eyebrow raised and an amused twist to his mouth. “Hotter than you?” 

“Don’t laugh at me,” Luke says, wincing, “I know I’m not hot or whatever, you don’t have to rub it in.” 

“Dude,” Michael says, his mouth dropped open. Luke braces himself for whatever mockery might follow. “You’re totally hot. You’re, like,” Michael waves his arm in the air, his voice climbing higher with incredulity, “are you kidding?” 

“You don’t have to try to make me feel better.” 

“Oh my god,” Michael mutters, and grabs Luke’s jaw, presses his mouth hard against Luke’s. There’s barely time for Luke to process that he’s being kissed before Michael has pulled away again. “You’re killing me,” Michael says, looking flustered, “you gotta believe me. You’re hot. You’re _really_ hot. I would know, okay. Who’s the one here that’s officially attracted to dudes?”

Luke blinks at him. Michael’s grip on his jaw is so tight that it aches a little. “You are,” Luke admits feebly. 

“Damn straight,” Michael says firmly and then lets him go, looking a little embarrassed. “Or not. Ha ha. Straight.” Luke laughs even though it’s not particularly funny. He tries to make it convincing but fails; Michael’s face falls. He rolls onto his back with a sigh, still close enough that his shoulder presses against Luke’s, but he feels very far away now, compared to before. 

“We can just go to sleep if you want,” Michael says carefully, his eyes on the ceiling, “but I don’t want to. I wanna suck your dick. Like, probably more than I’ve wanted to suck anyone’s dick before. Because you’re so hot.” He grins sharp and sideways at him. He’s a good friend. 

Luke blushes, his face heating and his cock stirring again, as easy as that. He stares at the profile of Michael’s soft, full mouth and can’t suppress the shiver that runs up his spine. He can do this, right? Even if Michael’s feeding him bullshit. It’s nice bullshit, and Luke should thank him for being so nice by letting him suck his dick, even if it’s very confusing that that is a thing he could want to do. 

_For practice_ , Luke reminds himself and wonders for the first time in his life how hard giving a blowjob might actually be.

Luke rolls over, curling up against Michael’s side, his knees drawn up between them. He still feels unsure, but Michael seems sad now, and Luke wouldn’t be able to stand it if he’s made Michael sad. 

“Can I keep my shirt on?” 

Michael turns and looks at him for a long moment, meeting Luke’s eyes. Luke looks back at him and remembers. He remembers how different this Michael is to the one other people get to see, the one that Luke didn’t get to know until he started sharing his bed and his secrets with him. Michael’s eyes flick down and back, down and back; _looking at my mouth_ , Luke thinks, _he wants to kiss me_.

“If you want, but,” Michael’s eyes drag back down again, “I like looking at you.”

Luke’s mouth wobbles and his heart thumps. It feels like such a naked thing to say, and Luke doesn’t know how to respond at all so he just leans in, pressing his hand to Michael’s chest to steady himself as he bumps his mouth hesitantly against Michael’s, hoping Michael will take it from there.

Michael does, sliding his hand into Luke’s hair, thumb brushing the sensitive skin behind Luke’s ear and making him shiver. Michael leans up and Luke allows him to guide his face to the angle he wants, allows Michael to coax his lips apart with his tongue. He feels hot again already, losing himself in Michael’s soft mouth and glad for it. It’s a relief; he can’t think when he’s kissing Michael. 

Michael pushes up onto his side, his hand slipping from Luke’s hair, skidding down his shoulder and chest and waist to the bottom edge of his shirt. He hesitates there, and then breaks the kiss to ask, breathless, “Is it okay if I touch you under it?” 

Luke’s panting as well, flushed and dizzy. He nods and presses closer for more hot kisses and Michael gives them to him, slipping his hand warm and familiar under his shirt, sliding over his tummy, pressing his thumb into the hard ridge of Luke’s hipbone and curling his fingers around him there, holding him and shifting closer until they’re pressed together. 

Luke moans against Michael’s mouth, slipping his arm around Michael’s waist and his leg between Michael’s thighs, wants tighter and closer, as close as he can get, and he is, he must be - he can feel Michael’s whole body against his own, can feel how he struggles for breath between kisses just like him, can feel the heat of his skin through his clothes. 

“Fuck,” Michael gasps, pulling away, bumping his forehead against Luke’s and panting. He pushes his hips down and into Luke’s and groans. Luke doesn’t know if it’s because he’s rubbing his dick against him or because he’s rubbing against Luke’s dick, but Luke totally gets it either way and works his own hips against Michael just the same as he is.

Michael’s hand drags down from his hip and then it’s on his ass and Luke’s moaning again, helplessly diving in for another kiss. Michael uses his grip to pull Luke close, to guide him to fall into a pattern to better match the grind of Michael’s hips against him. They move together as liquid as their lips do against each other, smooth and hot. Luke can feel himself tensing up already, he’s gonna come so quick, and just from his bare cock rubbing sticky against the fabric of Michael’s underwear. 

Luke pulls away, gasps, “Mikey,” his toes curl and his tummy clenches, “I’m gonna come,” he squeaks. 

“Shit, no, wait,” Michael mutters, pushing away and scrambling down the bed. Luke pants and watches him, hips still fucking up against nothing, his cock twitching and leaking against his tummy. He’s dumb with how close he is, mind clouded over. He reaches for his cock and Michael snatches his wrist away, squeezes tight and even that makes Luke moan. 

Michael holds Luke’s wrist and crouches over his lap, leans down and opens his mouth against Luke’s swollen dick. Luke only gets to feel the wet heat of it for a second before it’s just too late, too much. He comes, crying out and fisting the sheets by his sides, head thrown back and back arched, thighs trembling with the effort of it. 

Luke breathes hard through his nose, shivering as the world puts itself back together around his tingling body. Michael clambers back up, laying out on top of him, scoops his arms around Luke’s chest and squeezes him tight. Luke puts his arms weakly around him, returns the hug with as much feeling as he can muster, and they just lie there, Michael’s face pressed against Luke’s shoulder, holding each other.

Things come back to Luke, like the ability to regulate his breathing and how Michael totally just had his mouth on his dick. “Um,” Luke mumbles, apparently also remembering how things like his tongue and throat and vocal chords work, “sorry I… in your mouth.” 

Michael laughs, a short huff of breath against Luke’s collarbone. “Kinda the point,” he says and licks his lips. Which probably taste like come now, Luke realises, wanting to kiss him and get a taste for himself. Luke’s fingers curl into a fist on Michael’s back, and Michael finally raises his head, looks at him. 

“It wasn’t very good practice for you,” Luke says. 

Michael’s face hardens almost undetectably, and if Luke wasn’t so obsessed with every tiny molecule of Michael right now he’d surely have missed it. Michael pushes up and away and Luke’s arms slip from around him, drop heavily onto the bed. 

“I got to taste come for the first time,” Michael says with a shrug, rolling over onto his back beside Luke. “Besides my own,” he adds, averting his eyes as he shoves his hand down his pants, begins to stroke himself. Luke realises he still hasn’t come yet.

Luke watches him, and doesn’t feel bad or weird doing so since Michael seems to be refusing to look at him. Luke kind of wants Michael to look at him. Luke wants Michael to wanna look at him while he’s jerking off, Luke wants looking at him to make Michael hard, to get Michael off. 

He licks his lips and reaches over, the hand that was pressed between their thighs wrapping around Michael’s cock as soon as Michael’s fingers move out of the way to allow it. They lie side by side, and Michael moans, closes his eyes, and Luke watches him touch himself, his hands free now to slide up over his tummy, his chest, and Luke watches himself touch Michael, keeping his grip firm and his stroke even. 

“Fuck,” Michael groans, deep and breathless. His thighs shift restlessly, parting, pressing firm against Luke’s thigh as he rocks his hips up in short little motions, fucking Luke’s fist. It makes Luke’s face burn, makes him bite his lip harder and harder with each little dribble of pre-come that slicks his fingers and his grip on Michael’s cock. 

“Luke,” Michael pants, voice cracking in the end as he turns his head, suddenly, so Luke’s looking at Michael’s eyes now instead of his dick; it’s just as hot. Michael holds his gaze, blinking slow, eyebrows drawing together and relaxing in soft little twitches to match the parting of his mouth, the peek of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

Luke can’t look away. He’s caught, here, in this moment, staring back at Michael’s soft, open face as he strokes his cock and wants so much more. 

It’s awkward to manage, but Luke has to, tries to keep his rhythm going on Michael’s cock as he reaches across his chest. His fingertips brush against Michael’s cheek and his eyelashes flutter before he turns his jaw slightly into the warm cup of Luke’s palm. Luke sweeps his thumb over Michael’s cheekbone, and Michael breathes his name again, his eyes falling closed and brows arching. 

He looks so beautiful that Luke’s not sure he can be real, close like this, soft like this, allowing Luke to touch him like this. 

For practice. 

Michael frowns, his hand snatching up suddenly from his chest and wrapping around Luke’s wrist, squeezing tight. Luke feels Michael’s cock kick in his hand and he strokes a little quicker, chases it, and then gets there, Michael shuddering out a swear word, long and stuttered, as he comes hot and wet over Luke’s fist. 

Luke watches all of it, enthralled by the twitch and pump of Michael’s cock in his fist, the slick of come dribbling down the back of his hand, the little jiggle of Michael’s belly and thighs as his hips fall finally still, not moving at all now except for the rise and fall of his breath. 

Luke’s so wrapped up that he startles when Michael touches him, fingers against his jaw drawing his face to his own. Luke follows and melts into the kiss when their mouths meet, accepting and returning each soft catch of Michael’s lips, warm swipe of his tongue. 

He does taste different, just by a hint, enough to have Luke sucking a little greedily at Michael’s tongue to taste himself there. It reminds him of Michael’s come still slicked over his hand, laying warm on Michael’s tummy. He draws away and Michael makes a soft protest, dropping his head back onto the sheets like he’s not really committed. His hand stays on Luke’s cheek though, thumb stroking absently at the corner of Luke’s lips.

Luke raises his messed hand to his mouth, can’t help meeting Michael’s eyes as he licks tentatively at first, touching the tip of his tongue to one long stripe. It’s not bad, kind of tastes the same as the rest of sex does, spit and sweat. Luke flattens his tongue against his skin and licks up the whole lot, swallows it down.

Michael makes a sound like he’s been punched in the gut. “What the fuck,” he says faintly, breathily. 

Luke dodges his eyes away from Michael’s, wipes his own spit off the back of his hand on the sheets. “I should taste it too, right? To know if I like it,” he says, blushing. It made perfect sense in his own head but now, like usual, saying it out loud has him feeling like a giant weirdo.

“Oh,” Michael says and his hand drops away from Luke’s face. Luke wants to chase it back, nudge under Michael’s palm like a kitten until he’s being pet again. “Well. Do you?”

“Yeah,” Luke says, and looks at Michael again finally, meets his eyes. He really does.

He really fucking likes all of it. 

…

“Hey,” Calum says. Luke jumps, stuffing the clean undies he’s just stolen from Calum’s drawer under his shirt. He half turns towards him, totally innocently, and Calum narrows his eyes. “Bro,” he says, “you better not be stealing my shit again.”

Luke blushes, god damnit. He’s no good at getting caught. He purses his lips and shakes his head anyway, committed now, and Calum rolls his eyes, so Luke knows he’s been caught and that Calum’s gonna let him get away with it anyway.

“I don’t get it. Just do some washing.” 

“I will,” Luke says, “today.” 

Calum frowns and flops onto his unmade bed. “I knew you had to be up to no good anyway, why else would you be in _my_ room.” 

“It’s mine too.”

Calum gives him a long look. “Nuh uh. You never sleep here. You abandoned it. It’s mine now.”

“But all my stuff is in here,” he says, gesturing in the general direction of his opened, piled high suitcase, which actually is ninety percent Calum, Ash and Mikey’s stuff anyway.

“That’s mine now too,” Calum says loftily with a shrug. He pulls out his phone and looks at it instead of Luke. “Why don’t you borrow some of _Mikey’s_ boxers?”

Luke’s cheeks burn. It feels like a not-so-carefully disguised accusation. He’s suddenly totally clueless about what he’s supposed to do with his arms and hands and how on earth he’s supposed to answer. “His are dirty too,” he fumbles out helplessly.

Calum raises an eyebrow at his phone. “Oh I bet they are,” he says knowingly, so knowingly that Luke suspects with a hot flash of panic that Michael’s maybe _told_ him something. Luke’s blood rushes in his ears, his palms clammy. Calum glances up at him and Luke tries to make himself appear as normal as possible.

“Do you really want me to move my stuff?”

“No,” Calum rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. What is up with you?” He drops his phone onto his stomach and folds his hands over it, eyeing Luke up and down. 

“Nothing.”

“Sure. How do you and Mike even fit in that bed anyway?” 

Luke gulps. “What?”

“Well, it’s not like he’s making you sleep on the floor. And you’re not sleeping here. Unless - dude, are you sharing with your _mum_?” 

“No!”

“Why are you blushing so much?” 

“I don’t know,” Luke squeaks, dying. He clutches his burning cheeks, stolen undies in hand.

“Bro,” Calum says judgmentally, which is fair, since Luke currently has his undies pressed against his cheek. 

“I’m gonna,” Luke casts around for something to get him out of this conversation and Calum’s all too observant gaze. “Washing,” he says and bends, scooping up a random pile of clothes from the floor. “Clean clothes, good idea!” he cries as he flees in a flurry of dirty socks.

...

Washing machines don’t need to be so complicated; there should be a start button and a stop button and really, that’s it. Laundromat machines are like that - insert coin, make go, much washing - Luke can handle that, but the machine Luke finds in the laundry he steps foot in for the first time in the over two months it’s been since they moved in, has like ten knobs, and a million buttons, and like, _teeth_. 

Luke opens the lid and peers inside again. There’s still no water. The undies Luke was wearing the night he and Michael first kissed are sitting on top, staring back at him. He wonders if it’d be weird to not wash them for sentimentality’s sake. Could you put underwear in a scrapbook? Maybe a punk rock one. 

Luke closes the lid and huffs, planting his hands on his hips and inspecting the buttons for whatever is stopping the magic clothes cleaning thing from happening. 

“ _What_ are you doing?” Michael says from behind him, loud like he’s trying to scare Luke half to death on purpose. Dick. 

Luke waits a second for his heart to start beating again before he turns to face him. 

“Do you know how to make this work?” 

Michael laughs, shakes his head. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he says, stepping close and leaning in. Luke’s back hits the washing machine and Michael’s chest presses against his. He smirks, close, reaches behind Luke, and switches the power point on. 

“Oh,” Luke says as the machine kicks into life behind him, his nose a centimetre from Michael’s. 

“You’d make a shitty housewife,” Michael comments, his voice low and his breath warm and smelling of the sweet, milky tea he likes. 

Luke feels nervous, jittery. His hands feel three times their usual size, heavy and obvious hanging by his sides. Michael sighs and leans himself against Luke, draping his body over his, hooking his chin over his shoulder. It feels so good, Michael’s body against his own as well as the way it makes every uncertain part of Luke disappear, such a relief, just pure contented silence where there was doubt. Luke puts his hands on Michael’s waist and Michael makes a pleased noise. 

“Been thinking,” Michael mumbles.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Luke says automatically.

“Shut up, you’re so dumb,” Michael mumbles. Luke can hear his smile, and then he can feel it as Michael tucks his face against Luke’s shoulder. Luke slips his arms around Michael in a proper hold, unable to resist the urge to press his nose to Michael’s hair, breathe him in. His eyes slip closed. Behind him, the washer churns and sloshes. 

“What have you been thinking about?” He’s too curious not to ask. 

Michael hesitates, rubbing his nose against Luke’s collarbone through his shirt. “About fucking,” he mumbles casually. 

Luke feels his face heat up. “Yeah?”

“Well, I mean,” Michael draws back a little, far enough that they could look at each other if Michael wasn’t keeping his eyes trained firmly on something to the left of Luke’s shoulder. “Since we’re, like, helping each other out.” 

“Oh,” Luke attempts casual and ends up somewhere near constipated. “Yes?” It’s caught him off guard, is all. The affection is one thing, and it’s always been there, it’s normal for Michael to seek him out for a cuddle, a casual cling, but Luke really didn’t think they’d ever attempt to talk about whatever it is they’re doing outside the safety of Michael’s warm bed. 

“I probably need to figure out if I’m a top or a bottom, right?”

“Top or bottom of what?” Luke asks before his brain catches up. 

Michael scoffs, and rolls his eyes, and his chinks turn a little pink, and Luke gets it. “Oh,” he says, blushing when Michael finally meets his eyes. Luke blinks. “You want to - fuck me?” Luke asks slowly, pitching his voice low, barely audible over the sound of the machine. It feels bizarre, talking and thinking about getting fucked in the ass by his best friend as the machine clicks into spin cycle. Luke feels like _his_ head is spinning. 

“You can do me first, if you want,” Michael says quickly, like that makes it reasonable. “Or whatever, or not. I don’t know. I just thought -” 

“No, yeah, okay,” Luke jumps in, reassuring him. “That makes sense.” He says, even though he’s really not sure it does. Michael thinks they should fuck each other. Michael’s been thinking about fucking and being fucked by Luke. Somehow, the thought has never crossed Luke’s mind, and now, it’s too new, he’s not sure how to deal with this new possibility, how he feels about it. 

But his heart is beating faster, and Michael is pressed so close, and it feels right. “Cool.” 

“Cool,” Luke repeats awkwardly, and Michael steps back from him, his arms slipping from around his waist. Michael’s eyes search Luke’s, bright and green, lingering in Luke’s space for a moment, and Luke just wants to kiss him. Everything is simple when Michael kisses him. 

Michael leaves him though, and Luke stays there leaned against the washing machine for a long while.

…

Late afternoon, Michael breezes past the living room as Luke lounges in front of the TV, phone propped up on his stomach. He locks the screen, brain fizzing with adrenaline at the possibility of being caught with the search results he’d just been scrolling through. It’s hard to look up what having anal sex for the first time might be like without just getting a lot of porn, or stuff that makes Luke feel kind of sick and scared. Luke presses down on the pillow over his lap as Michael backs up, his head reappearing around the door. 

“I’m going to the shops,” he says. He’s wearing his long black coat with the collar turned up and has his hands stuffed in the pockets. “For stuff. For tonight.”

“Oh,” Luke says, ears burning. It’s really going to happen, then. His stomach churns, nervous. He fiddles with his phone, glancing away. “Should I come?” 

“Nah, s’all right.” Michael shrugs, taking a step back, coming to stand in the doorway fully. He ducks his head, ruffling his hair and sweeping his fringe to the side. Luke wants to touch it, wants to open his arms and have Michael come into them and calm him, reassure him that this will be just as easy and natural as every other thing between them. 

…

It’s hard to stay broody for long with Ash and Cal around. By the time Michael returns Luke’s squished at the bottom of a pile of their limbs, grappling for the remote which Calum holds just out of his reach. Michael stands in the doorway, rain drops littering the shoulders of his coat, plastic bag knocking against his shin. 

“Mikey,” Ashton cries like he hasn’t seen him in a hundred years, bounding up off the couch and throwing himself at Michael. “Did you buy us treats?” Ashton asks, winding his arms around Michael to reach for his bag. Michael tries to shake him off, laughing.

“Beer?” Calum asks hopefully. Luke could definitely use a drink or seven. 

“How would I buy beer, Calum,” Michael says flatly, struggling under Ashton’s prying hands, “get _off_ , jesus.” 

It’s too late though, Ashton’s snatched the bag away, wriggling out of Michael’s reach and holding it up to peer inside. His eyes go wide, and Luke’s heart just about stops beating, smile wide and painful frozen on his face.

“Give it back,” Michael pleads, his cheeks pink and his hands grasping for the bag. Ashton allows him to snatch it away, eyeing him like he’s an alien.

“Who are you having _sex_ with?” Ashton asks, brow furrowed. Luke ducks his face against the couch cushions, hiding as Calum scrambles up over the back of the couch, his knee digging into Luke’s side painfully.

“Sex?” Calum repeats, bumping up against Ashton’s back. “Michael’s not having sex.”

“Um, how would you know?”

“I know everything,” Calum says archly.

“ _I_ know that someone doesn’t go buy condoms and _lube_ unless they’re planning on using them.”

“ _Lube_?” Calum screws up his nose, “why lube?”

“I guess some of us aren’t as skilled in the art of foreplay as others. You know, Michael, there’s ways to get a girl’s _natural juices_ flowing -”

“Ugh, stop,” Calum shoves him.

“Get things nice and… _moist_ ,” he grins at Calum, widening his eyes and then cackling when Calum groans his disgust.

“You’re so disgusting!” Calum cries, smacking his hand over Ashton’s mouth.

Luke peers over the back of the couch and meets Michael’s eyes. His cheeks are bright red.

…

It feels so obvious, now. Obvious and shameful, but not enough to keep Luke away. Luke pushes Michael’s bedroom door open but finds his room empty. It’s late, carefully so. Luke put in a few extra cautionary hours with Calum and Ashton in front of the TV, watching stupid shows after dinner to try and send them off the trail. Michael stayed upstairs, and Luke spent every second with his eyes on the TV and his thoughts on Michael. 

The grocery bag is on Michael’s bed. Luke goes to it and peers inside. He’s never actually seen lube up close before, averts his eyes even just passing them in the supermarket aisle. The bottle is small, it fits easily in the palm of his hand.

He jumps when he hears someone behind him, dropping the bottle back into the bag with a rustle of plastic. 

Of course it’s just Michael. “Hey,” he says. The door clicks shut behind him.

“Hi,” Luke replies, blushing. Michael’s fresh from the shower, a white towel wrapped around his hips, beads of water still slipping down his shoulders and chest, dripping from his wet hair. 

“I got the stuff,” Michael says needlessly, coming to stand next to Luke by the bed. Both of them stare down at the bag and its contents. “Didn’t know what kind you like, hope it’s okay.” 

“I like all kinds,” Luke says, trying to sound as casual and nonchalant as Michael does, when his heart is actually working overtime, beating 100 miles an hour. “It’s great,” he says, sounding strained even to himself. 

Michael sits on the edge of the bed, looking up at Luke apprehensively. The spread of his legs parts the towel, revealing almost the entirety of his right thigh, and Luke is suddenly keenly aware of how naked Michael is. His face heats, eyeing the soft climb of Michael’s inner thigh, the drape of the towel between his legs.

Luke wants to do this, to be there for Michael every way he can, but he feels so scared, jittery with it. It’s like the first times he went on stage for real to sing. He wanted it so bad but his body fought him, like it is now. He had to force himself. It was good practice then, for now, for not turning and fleeing outright. 

Michael rearranges his hair with spidery fingers, coaxing his fringe into position, and then smiles like he’s been practicing how. He reaches for Luke’s hip, catching at Luke’s baggy t-shirt and tugging. Luke takes the step closer, in between Michael’s legs. He hasn’t brushed his teeth. Probably if Michael kisses him he’ll be able to taste the yoghurt he had for dessert and Michael hates yoghurt. 

Michael puts his hand between Luke’s legs and cups his cock. Luke sways a little on his feet, biting his lip. “I’m first, yeah? You’re gonna do me first?” Michael asks.

Luke can only nod and watch Michael reach under his shirt for his waistband. Luke tries to be helpful, sucking his tummy in and holding the hem of his shirt up out of the way while Michael gets his fly undone, peels his jeans open and reaches in, touching Luke’s cock through his lego underwear. Luke’s not hard yet, just nervous and kind of embarrassed. He probably should have put on some sexier underwear, whatever that might be.

Michael smiles up at him, stroking him. “Hey, thanks for doing this for me,” he says, cheeks pink and lips red, eyes shining. Luke can’t help but think how pretty he looks. “I’m glad it’s gonna be you and not some stranger guy who might like... I know you’ll go easy on me, ha ha.” 

Luke swallows, nods. “I,” Luke tries, fails. He reaches out, strokes Michael’s fringe to the side, just sliding his fingers through the thick, wet strands of it, which feels like a weird thing to do until Michael’s eyelashes flutter. “Yeah,” Luke finishes lamely. He doesn’t want to think about some stranger fucking Michael, doing it too hard, hurting him. It’s easier to imagine than the reality of what’s happening though, that Luke’s going to fuck him and somehow make it good, make it so good that Michael won’t want to do it with anyone else except Luke.

Luke puts his hand on Michael’s damp shoulder, squeezes it as he bends to Michael’s upturned face, presses his mouth to Michael’s. He still feels awkward, initiating, and it makes the kiss soft and hesitant, but the familiar warmth of Michael’s lips parting against his own is instantly reassuring. Luke shivers, wants to crawl down onto the bed and just lie with Michael and kiss him forever, but then Michael’s fingers are scrambling under the waistband of Luke’s pants and wrapping around his dick. 

Michael pulls away, drags Luke’s cock from his underwear and turns his mouth to it instead, ducking down and opening up, sucking him in. Luke gasps, it’s so hot and wet and sudden. He holds tight to Michael’s shoulder, holding himself up, hunches over and watches as his cock swells in Michael’s mouth. Michael sucks him sloppily, licking and suckling like he knows just as much about giving blowjobs as Luke does. There’s no real technique but it still feels so good that it makes Luke’s toes curl in the carpet, makes him moan even as he tries to catalogue exactly every little thing Michael does in case he needs to reciprocate.

Michael pulls off and replaces his mouth with his hand, stroking Luke’s cock as he looks up at him even more pink mouthed and breathless now. Luke’s dick is shiny wet in Michael’s fist. “I fingered myself in the shower,” he says. 

Luke steadies himself on Michael’s shoulders, suddenly woozy. “Okay?”

“So I’m ready,” Michael says with a soft laugh, “when you are.” 

Luke ready too, then. As ready as he’ll ever be. “Are you sure?” asks Luke, trying not to sound too scared.

“Yeah,” Michael says and pushes Luke back a bit so he can pull his legs up and scoot back onto his bed. He kicks his towel off the edge and it lands damply on Luke’s toes. Michael’s naked so Luke pushes his pants down, kicks them off and climbs onto the bed too. 

Their eyes meet, Michael sprawled at the head of the bed and Luke on his knees at the foot. It feels awkward, frozen there with his cock out, straining eager and obvious, the hem of his t-shirt useless to hide it. Luke shuffles forward on his knees and it breaks the standstill. 

Michael drags the grocery bag over and pays a lot of attention to looking inside it. 

“I haven’t done this before,” Luke says. 

“What, fucked a guy? No kidding,” Michael mumbles, not looking up as he tosses the condoms in Luke’s direction. The box bounces off Luke’s tummy. Luke picks it up and turns it over in his hands, slides his fingernail down an edge to split the plastic wrap.

“What if I do it wrong?”

Michael looks up at him. “You’ve had sex with a girl right?” 

“Yeah,” Luke blushes, fumbling the box. Condoms spill onto the bed. Did Michael really need to get so many? “Not uh, anal. Though.” 

Michael sits up so they’re face to face. “Luke,” he says, taking the box from him. Luke blinks at his empty hands, and then at Michael. “You’ll be fine,” he says, and presses one single condom into Luke’s hand, the corners of the wrapper digging into his palm. Luke closes his hand around it, but it’s more to chase the feel of Michael’s fingers against his own than anything. “You’re stalling,” Michael mumbles quietly, “it’s okay if you’ve changed your mind.” 

Michael’s fingers slip away. Luke snatches for them, squeezes. “No,” he says. He just doesn’t know if he can handle it. It scares him. “I’m just nervous.”

The corner of Michael’s mouth curls into a soft, slight kind of smile. “Don’t be,” he says and leans forward, hooking his hand around the back of his neck and pulling him in. Michael kisses his shoulder through his shirt, and then leans his head there. It’s almost like a hug, and it works just as well as one for Luke’s nerves. “It’s just me, okay? Just us. We’re in this together.” 

Luke nods and Michael draws away with a smile. He shoves the rest of the condoms and the box off the side of the bed and picks up the lube. He stretches back out on his back. The condom feels warm and clammy in Luke’s hand. Luke looks down in his lap. 

“Are you still hard enough to get it on?” Michael asks, sounding almost like he’s teasing, but too gentle for it to come across like criticism. 

Luke curls his hand around his cock and strokes himself a few times. In front of him, Michael spreads his legs and reaches down, fingers slick with lube, and yeah, Luke thinks he’s probably gonna be able to get the rubber on.

Watching Michael touch himself is hot, he looks good, one hand holding his cock, the other touching somewhere lower down under his balls. Luke can’t really see and he’d like to, but he doesn’t need to. He knows Michael’s touching his asshole, getting himself wet so Luke can fuck him. 

Luke shivers, his cock throbbing in his fist. It’s the only thing that makes it feel real, how on the verge of desperate he is. He rips open the condom with his teeth so he doesn’t have to take his hand off his dick. 

“I know it’s boring, but like this, okay? Missionary?” Michael’s saying. Luke barely hears him, absorbed in rolling the condom down his cock. Michael reaches for him, spreads his thighs wider, and Luke moves between them. “Um,” he says, holding out the lube.

Michael’s thighs feel so soft against his. He kind of just wants to rub against him, and it’s distracting. “Lube me up, Scotty,” Luke mutters, mindlessly. 

Michael snorts. “Oh my god.” 

Luke’s embarrassed, but only for a second, because then Michael’s rubbing lube on his dick himself. Luke gasps. “You’re such a nerd,” Michael says when he’s done and leaning back on his elbows again, looking hot and expectant, biting his lip through a smile. Luke wants him so bad his chest aches.

As soon as Luke shifts forward Michael bends his knees and lifts his legs to make room, the two of them kind of, just, slotting together. Michael asks, quietly, “Um, can you kiss me?”

Luke leans in, trying to do it carefully, so he doesn’t squash Michael under him, his hand planted by Michael’s shoulder as he lowers himself down and kisses Michael’s mouth, his heart beating hard.

It’s a soft kiss, and Luke’s barely in it, barely able, but Michael seems to appreciate it anyway, sighing against his mouth and putting his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close so Luke’s efforts are wasted and their bodies crush together. Luke groans, trying and failing not to grind his dick mindlessly against Michael’s body, but Michael’s doing it too, so it’s okay. 

Michael moans into Luke’s mouth, digs his fingers into Luke’s waist. Luke just feels hot all over, too turned on. He’s gonna come and ruin everything. 

“Luke,” Michael gasps, pressing another hot, wet, kiss quickly against his mouth, “I’m gonna come if we keep this up,” he says, a laugh in his throaty voice. 

Luke buries his face in Michael’s neck, hiding his nonsensical grin against his skin. “Me too,” he admits. 

Michael squeezes his hip. “C’mon,” he mumbles, and pushes until Luke lifts up enough to let Michael’s hand slip between them, wrap around his dick. “Fuck,” Michael says faintly, squirming under Luke, his hips wriggling, shifting down until he’s right there, his hand on Luke’s cock guiding it against his ass. “Help me,” he says, nudging Luke’s shoulder with his own. 

Luke huffs and gathers himself together, pushes up and fumbles his hand down between them, knuckles bumping against Michael’s thigh. Michael’s stubble scratches against Luke’s cheek, his breath rasps in his ear. 

Luke feels like he can’t breath, flying blind now, holding his cock steady as he shifts his hips forward, head of his cock slipping between Michael’s cheeks until he’s sinking right into him, hot and unbelievable. 

Michael’s breath catches. His grip tightens on Luke’s shoulder. It’s like finally reaching the crest of a rollercoaster, tipping over and free falling helplessly, something thrilling and joyful about the inevitability of the descent. 

Sunk balls deep, Luke lets out a shaky breath and makes himself look at Michael’s face. “Are,” Luke has to swallow, try again, “are you okay?” He can’t tell by the stunned look of him.

Michael seems to shake himself. “Fuck,” he gasps, “yeah.” He arches his head back, fingers curling through Luke’s hair. “It’s perfect, Luke, you’re perfect,” he says. Luke’s heart swells. 

“Okay,” Luke breathes out a little shakily. Everything’s starting to close in on him, hot and pressing. He tries moving, shifting his hips in a little rocking motion, and watches it bloom on Michael’s face. 

His brow creases and smooths, his lips part. He’s so pretty Luke can’t stop himself from bending to kiss his flushed cheek. It makes Michael smile, which is even prettier. He opens his eyes, looks at Luke, and draws him back in for a proper kiss. It’s encouraging and Luke begins to fuck him with a little more confidence, shifting his hips more deliberately. 

He stays close, mouth pressed to Michael’s but too distracted to kiss. Breathing seems effort enough. He’s panting, and Michael is too, squeezing Luke’s waist and rolling his hips to meet Luke’s, hand sliding down to Luke’s ass like he’s trying to pull him in deeper. 

“This is -”

“I know,” Michael agrees, jamming his ass down on Luke’s dick and making Luke’s head spin.

“I can’t, I’m gonna,” Luke gasps, the sudden lurch of his orgasm closing in like a tidal wave.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Michael assures him, reaching up, he presses his hand to Luke’s cheek. 

Luke shudders, squeaks out, “M’sorry,” and comes. 

“Shit,” Michael swears, squirming and shifting and making Luke groan. “Jesus,” Michael breathes, “even with the, I can still feel it.” 

Luke just whimpers and collapses down on top of Michael, burying his face against Michael’s neck. Michael puts his arms around Luke hesitantly but when Luke makes a needy noise, he holds him properly. 

“Are you okay?” Michael asks. 

Luke feels everything inside him tremble, shift. He feels like he’s going to cry, he’s so overwhelmed with so many feelings he doesn’t understand. 

“Luke?”

Luke wriggles closer, clings tighter. 

“We don’t have to do it the other way, if you don’t want. I don’t mind.”

Luke lifts his head. “It’s not that,” he croaks. 

Michael squirms under him, nudging his knuckles at Luke’s hip until Luke gets it and, feeling like an idiot, scrambles back and eases his dick out of Michael. He sits cross legged between Michael’s legs and peels off the gross condom, blushing. 

Michael sits up too, looking beautiful and flushed. “What’s wrong?” 

Luke grabs a pillow and hugs it, hiding himself. He swallows. His throat feels tight. “I don’t care what I am. Like, if I’m not straight. I don’t know but I don’t care,” Luke says. 

“That’s okay,” Michael says, face and voice softening in a way that always makes Luke feel like he’s about to fall off a cliff. “Hey, Luke, it’s okay. I don’t care either,” he moves closer and puts an arm around his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. It’s bullshit anyway.” 

“Yeah,” Luke agrees, because it is. It’s stupid. Why does there have to be categories for something that’s already as weird as sex? It makes it really hard to actually have some, being so worried about what type it is, and what it might mean, about him as a person. 

“You don’t have to decide. You don’t have to do anything,” Michael says, rubbing Luke’s arm. “ _We_ don’t-”

“No, I want to,” Luke says. He’s sure about that at least. “Unless _you_ don’t want to.”

“Are you kidding?” Michael laughs, pressing his smiling mouth against Luke’s shoulder. He grabs his dick; he’s still so hard. Luke kind of feels bad for making him wait, though it is impressive he can keep a boner for so long. Luke decides that’s probably too weird a compliment to pay him. “It felt so awesome. I don’t want you to miss out,” Michael says. 

Luke reaches out and wraps his hand around Michael’s cock. It’s familiar now, holding a dick from this angle. He strokes Michael’s cock and he makes a breathy little noise, hips twitching. Luke really, really likes making Michael feel good, and after what it felt like to fuck him, Luke can’t wait for Michael to get to feel that too. It makes him smile and when Michael opens his mouth Luke knows he’s probably just going to say something dumb so Luke kisses him instead. 

Michael just makes him feel so good, makes him forget himself for little moments, long enough for Luke to swallow Michael’s surprise and kiss him proper hard for once, show him. He’s not sure what he’s showing him, but Michael moans anyway so Luke doesn’t stop. He has to let go of Michael’s cock when Michael curls his fingers in his hair and pulls him down, urging Luke to climb on top of him again.

Luke licks at Michael’s tongue, hot and thick in his mouth, and wriggles his hip against the jut of his cock. Michael moans and squeezes Luke’s ass. Luke didn’t even know he was touching him there but he likes it. 

“Stop,” Michael breathes harshly, right into Luke’s mouth, “you’re gonna make me come.” Luke shivers, eyes lingering closed like there’s any hope of composing himself in this situation. 

“Sorry,” Luke mumbles.

“Shut up,” Michael laughs, hands stroking Luke’s ass, which feels kind of weird, kind of sexy. “Um, do you wanna like - you have to stretch.”

“Like my hamstrings?” 

“No, your asshole,” Michael says flatly. 

“Oh,” Luke giggles, a little hysterically.

Michael joins in, shaking his head. “So do you wanna, or I can, I don’t mind.” 

“Um,” Luke says. It’s kind of a weird thing to have to decide. On the one hand, he has no idea how to finger his asshole, but on the other, it seems like a not-fun, kind of gross thing to ask someone else to do for you. 

“I want to,” Michael confesses, looking embarrassed. “Is that weird? I’m kinda curious.” 

“You can do it,” Luke says gratefully, and then gasps, “oh,” when Michael pulls at his ass, spreads him open, and touches in between. It feels weird, but good, after the weirdness of being touched there at all.

“I need the lube,” Michael grumbles. Luke understands, he’s very comfortable too, but he’d have to move anyway at some point. Probably he’s not down for being on top for the first time. 

Luke rolls off Michael and onto his back. Michael sits up, searching for wherever the lube’s rolled to, leaning off the side of the bed. Luke takes the opportunity to reach down between his legs and have a feel for himself. 

It’s less weird touching himself, but less sexy too. He presses his finger against his hole experimentally and it doesn’t feel like much, doesn’t even feel like it could go in. He’s scared suddenly that it’s not going to work, that he’s not going to like it, that Mikey won’t get to know what it feels like. 

The horror must register on his face because when Michael turns back with the lube, his smile falls away. “Changed your mind?” 

Luke pulls his hand from between his legs, shakes his head. “It’s weird,” he admits.

Michael bites his lip. “We can stop whenever you want,” he says, holding the lube, hesitating.

“I know,” Luke says, “I haven’t changed my mind.” He spreads his legs. Michael uncaps the lube.

It’s better when it’s Michael, but it’s probably the lube too. Michael’s fingers stroke between the cheeks of his ass, warm and slick, slow and careful. It feels slippery, and like Luke wants to tilt his hips into it, to get Michael to focus more on, on his hole. That must mean he likes it, right?

“Stop watching me so much,” Luke says when he gets sick of trying not to meet Michael’s intense gaze directed right at his face. It feels like too much, to look Michael in the eye while he’s doing this. His face is so hot, he knows he must be blushing so bad. It feels fucking stupid to feel embarrassed about this.

“I wanna make sure,” Michael says defensively, “I don’t wanna do anything you don’t like.” He doesn’t look away. Luke groans and covers his face. “Look,” Michael laughs, reaching up with his free hand to pull at Luke’s wrist, “does it help if I say that I like,” his voice gets lower, “I like how it looks? How you look. It turns me on.”

“Oh,” Luke says, a hot wave rolling down his insides. 

“How it looks, and,” he swallows, his fingers moving in shorter and shorter strokes over and over until he’s rubbing soft and insistent right against Luke’s hole. Luke’s hips shift, wanting to push against it, take it. “How it feels,” Michael says, his voice soft, “it makes me wanna,” he looks away, and then back, “makes me wanna fuck you.” 

Luke moans, he can’t help it, but it makes Michael give him this hot, dark look, and so he doesn’t even feel so humiliated. Michael leans down close and presses a kiss against Luke’s neck, mouth as soft as his voice, making Luke’s breath catch in his chest. “You want that?” Michael asks. Luke closes his eyes, tips his head so Michael might kiss his throat again. He does. “Want me to fuck you?” 

His finger presses inside. Luke just gasps. It feels like, like there’s something in his ass. But not bad, and Luke just wants Michael to keep going, keep talking, kiss him again. He turns his head and finds Michael’s mouth and Michael kisses him, lips catching softly, tongue drawing another gasp out of Luke, or it’s his hand, his finger stroking in and out of him. It feels so easy, it’s like his body just knows. 

“Does it feel good?” Michael asks. Luke just nods, breathes against Michael’s mouth and slides his hand down Michael’s side, feeling him. He only just fucked him before but this feels brand new. 

“I like it,” Luke pants. 

“Good,” Michael laughs. His finger slides out and Luke’s about to ask why, but then he’s back, but more, two. It really knocks the air out of Luke, makes him feel wound tight the way it’s just this side of uncomfortable. It doesn’t feel bad, but it feels full. In a good way. Luke licks his lips. How dumb it was to be scared of not liking it; he should have been worried about liking it too much, coming too soon. 

He’s moving without really telling himself to, his hips rocking down into it, but Michael doesn’t seem to mind, seems to just be going with it, stroking inside him slow and slick in time with how he’s moving. Luke’s starting to think he might be able to take a dick after all.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” Michael groans against Luke’s neck. Luke makes a sound, trying to agree.

Three fingers feels kind of just like two going in, like more in a satisfying way. It makes Luke moan. “Are you hard?” Michael asks, already fumbling between them to feel. Luke already knows he is, and his touch makes him gasp just as much as when he hears Michael swear, “fuck, you are,” like he’s really excited about it, like it’s something impressive, like he’s done something amazing. 

“I think,” Michael says. He takes his fingers out. Luke misses them. “I’m gonna, is it okay, are you ready, do you think?” 

How the hell is Luke supposed to know? He nods anyway. “Yeah.” It’s all he can say. He feels stupid and useless with how much he wants Michael, wants this, it’s terrifying, feels like the Earth is going to drop away beneath him if Michael doesn’t touch him again.

Michael’s fumbling with a condom. Luke can only watch as he rolls it down the thick length of his dick. He tries to remember how breathing normally works but all he can think about is how Michael’s dick is going to be inside him, and how bad he wants it to be. Michael rubs more lube on his cock, and pauses, wiping a shiny smear down his thigh. 

“Is it okay like this? On your back?”

“Yeah, like this,” Luke says and reaches a hand out. Michael crawls up on top and Luke spreads his legs wider apart, fitting Michael between. It feels strange, on his back, legs spread, ass wet. He reaches to pull Michael close, needing comfort, a hug, closeness. 

“Wait,” Luke says, and Michael backs off with a concerned look. Luke yanks his shirt up, wriggles out of it, and then pulls Michael close again. It’s so much better with nothing separating them.

Michael reaches down between them. “I never thought about fucking someone for the first time,” he mumbles. He’s pressed so close everything feels like it’s going to tip Luke over the edge. The head of his cock snubs up slick against Luke’s ass. “I’m so glad it’s you, I’m so glad it’s you,” he says, whispering, mouth close enough that his lips brush Luke’s as his cock pushes inside. 

Luke gasps, trying to spread his legs wider, pull Mikey closer. It’s so much more, so different. It’s _thick_ , unrelenting, overwhelming. Luke blinks up at Michael moving so carefully above him, into him, and thinks _this is it, this is all I need_. 

Not just like, getting fucked. All of it. _Michael._ Sharing Michael’s bed and Michael’s secrets. Nothing makes sense anymore except being near him, being known by him. 

Luke makes a noise that’s strange even to himself, some weird hiccuping kind of gasp. He closes his eyes, feels the weight of Michael on top of him, the warmth of his skin, the dull, hot ache of Michael’s cock edging deeper inside him.

Michael’s lips brush against the corner of his mouth. “Am I hurting you?” He asks, gently. 

Luke shakes his head. It doesn’t hurt. The feeling is like pain, but not painful. Luke doesn’t know how to describe it, doesn’t know how to center his focus on the feeling of getting fucked when there’s so much inside of him. All he knows is he’s so glad Michael’s here with him. 

“Can you -,” Michael’s voice sounds strained. He shifts his weight on top of Luke and his cock sinks the final inch, Michael’s hip bones pressing against the back of Luke’s thighs. “I need more - I need to know you’re good, Luke,” Michael says, sounding almost desperate. 

“I am,” Luke answers and squeezes the back of Michael’s neck. “I’m good, it’s good.” 

“Thank fuck,” Michael shudders, and somehow becomes heavier on top of him, like he’s finally just relaxing. “Oh my god, Luke,” he groans and rocks his hips against him just slightly. Luke clenches down on reflex, shocked by how good and different it feels when Michael moves, now that he must be getting used to it.

Michael kisses him and Luke kisses him back eagerly, holding Michael’s face between his hands, gasping helplessly against his lips when Michael begins to move with more purpose. It feels so hot and slick and simple, Michael’s thick cock fucking into him. Michael gasps as he pulls away from the kiss, getting his hands by Luke’s head and pushing up, bearing down with his hips and making it somehow even better, easier. 

Michael looks so good above him, pink mouth kissed and parted, brow creased in concentrated effort. Luke’s never seen anything better, never felt anything better. Michael begins to pant as he fucks him quicker, and Luke breathes harder, shorter, too. Each time Michael goes deep it’s like little sparks lit up in the deepest parts of him and Luke just wants more, never wants it to end. It’s proper fucking, nothing like Luke’s sad earlier attempt, except in how overwhelming and Earth-shattering it’s turned out to be. 

“I think I’m gay for you,” Luke gasps, unexpectedly.

Michael frown, stills. “For me,” he repeats, and Luke regrets his entire existence, “like, specifically?” 

His heart is beating so hard, pulse pounding in his ears. Tingling from head to toe with the pleasure of getting fucked by Michael, there’s no turning back. “You specifically.”

“Like?” Michael frowns. Luke whines, and caves.

“Please, don’t stop. I’m sorry. Just keep going.” 

“Umm,” Michael seems torn, “okay?” he says, and thrusts hastily, clumsily. Luke’s scared he’s fucked everything completely but it only takes a second for Michael to find his rhythm again, and then it only takes another before Luke’s coming.

“God,” Michael squeaks. Luke barely hears him, tense and shuddering through it, come splattering up his belly and chest. He grabs for his dick mindlessly, jerking himself through the last trembling moments.

“Fuck,” Michael gasps desperately, and jams his dick into Luke in a few jerky movements, before he stops. Michael was right, you can feel it, Luke thinks distantly. 

Michael pulls out of him and collapses beside him, throws his arm around Luke and drags himself close. He’s panting, chin digging into Luke’s chest. “Me specifically,” he prompts. 

“Uhhh,” Luke squeezes his eyes closed and tries to recapture the thought, the meaning. He doesn’t have to try hard, it’s thrumming through him strong and obvious. “You. What I am doesn’t matter, if I’m with you.” 

“With me?” 

“With you.”

“With me,” Michael says, looking at Luke very intensely. “With…”

“I don’t think, this wasn’t about anything except for how I want you to have sex with me, because, you’re my,” Luke’s voice cracks. It’s like the words are coming from somewhere else, totally bypassing his brain. His brain has switched off, checked out, Mikey must have fucked all sense out of him. He feels crazy. “You’re my best friend, and I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Michael says, croakily. “I... I didn’t know, I.” 

“I didn’t either,” Luke says faintly as the reality of what he’s said, what he means, really hits him. He’s in love with Michael and he’s going to die because more than likely Michael does not love him back, and suddenly it’s painfully obvious to him that he cannot possibly survive in a world in which Michael doesn’t love him back. 

Luke’s frozen, unable to take back what he’s said and unable to hide from the agony of Michael, naked and half on top of him. Michael is staring sort of past his chin with a dazed look, mouth open. 

“I wouldn’t have - if I knew, I wouldn’t have -”

Luke cannot physically bear to hear another word. With a whine and in an uncoordinated panic he shoves Michael off him in a frantic thrash of his body and falls straight off the side of the bed. His ass lands on something hard and it hurts.

“What the fuck?” Michael squeaks, his concerned face appearing over the edge of the mattress. 

Luke yanks at the blanket half hanging off the bed and winds it around himself like a cocoon. Honestly, if there was any chance Michael could have ever loved him back he’s definitely blown it by now. 

He doesn’t anyway. He doesn’t and he’s made it clear that if he knew how Luke felt he wouldn’t have let anything that’s happened happen between them.

“It’s not like I planned it, okay? I didn’t know. Back when we first started, it was just,” but now Luke doubting himself. How could he have _not known_ the whole time? People don’t just start having sex with their best friends for no reason. 

His silence has stretched too long. Luke just wants to pull the blanket over his head and possibly disappear, since merciful death has yet to take him. “You said that,” Michael pauses to swallow, looking away with a frown. “When I told you I’m into guys you kissed me. I thought you just wanted to figure out if you were too. It was just experimenting.” 

Luke shakes his head, squeezes the blankets in his fists. “I didn’t know then, but it wasn’t like that. Ever. And when you said that it’d be good practice, for being with other guys. I just, I didn’t want you to be with other guys.” 

“Luke,” Mikey whines, eyebrows drawing together.

“I know,” Luke covers his face. “I’m so fucking dumb,” he mumbles into his palms, blankets slipping down his hunched shoulders. Worse than not being loved back, worse than the rejection, is the pity. It was just sex for Michael. It was just fucking. The only thing worse would be if Luke starts crying, and he feels like he might.

Michael joins him on the floor and wraps his arms around Luke’s shoulders. Luke leans into him grateful and ashamed. He’s pathetic and Michael’s such a good friend. 

“I don’t wanna be with other guys, Luke. I just said that because - I don’t know. I didn’t want to freak you out.” Michael presses a kiss to Luke’s temple. “If it was for practice, if you were just figuring shit out, it made sense. I needed it to make sense. I wanted it to happen but it was too important and scary to just, I had to make sense of it. To let myself want you.” 

“You wanted me too?” Luke asks with a sniffle. 

“Yeah,” Michael laughs. “I still do and it’s fucking terrifying.” Luke looks up at him, his eyes going wide. Michael smiles shyly. “I haven’t felt scared like this since I came out to you,” he admits. 

“Why were you scared?” 

Michael shrugs, squeezing Luke a little as his arms are still around him. Luke doesn’t mind at all. “I guess I thought if you knew I liked guys you wouldn’t want to come sleep in here with me anymore,” he mumbles. 

“That’s dumb,” Luke says. “You shouldn’t be scared. You knew - you know I love you. That’s not going to happen. Everyone’s gonna treat you the same, when you tell them.” 

“You didn’t.”

“True. I started kissing you. Not sure that’s gonna be the general reaction.” 

“I know,” Michael says with a smile. His arms slip from around Luke, his hands in his lap. He looks down at them, and Luke wants to reach out, and so he does, taking one of Michael’s hands in his own. Michael turns his hand over so they’re palm to palm, links their fingers together. “That’s not why I’m scared now though.” 

“No?” 

Michael shakes his head, squeezing Luke’s hand. Luke’s heart is beating so hard. “Nothing’s scarier than like,” Michael looks up at him, cheeks flushed and eyes round, “being in love and shit.” 

Luke inhales sharply. Suddenly he knows exactly what he wants and exactly what he’s supposed to do. He leans in, pausing a breath from Michael’s mouth. Their noses bump and Luke shivers at the new raw feel of everything, of everything laid bare between them. Michael tips his chin up and they kiss, soft and slow. 

…

Almost a week later, Luke and Michael are awoken by a giggly pair of teenagers bounding into Michael’s room and launching themselves on top of them. 

“Sweet setup,” Calum says as he maneuvers a groaning Michael away from Luke and into a little spoon. He takes full advantage of the extra space they’ve made by pushing the two single beds together, and so does Ashton. “I’m totally gonna do this with your old bed,” Calum tells Luke. 

“Yeah that’s fine I’ll just continue sleeping in the lounge room, on the _floor_ , no one worry about me,” Ashton huffs, sprawled out half on top of Luke. 

“Guys,” Michael says. Luke looks at him being patted by Calum. They’re both naked under the sheets and Luke misses his naked body being pressed against Michael’s naked body. Michael doesn’t look nearly as grumpy as Luke feels about being woken up or having his cuddles stolen. Michael just looks sleepy and happy, practically purring in Calum’s arms. It’s a very nice look for him even if it makes some weird new jealous feelings bubble up. 

Michael smiles at him. Luke loves him.

“I’m bi,” Michael says nonchalantly to the room at large, nothing like the hushed confession he made to Luke only weeks ago. He rubs his eye with his fist sleepily. “Just so everyone knows.” 

“Okay,” Calum says and pats his tummy.

“I mean, everyone kind of figured,” Ashton says with a roll of his eyes, but he wriggles over and gives Mikey’s thigh a reassuring squeeze. Michael sighs. 

“Me and Michael are having sex,” Luke blurts. Michael’s eyes bulge. 

“What?” Calum and Ashton screech in unison. 

“On this bed?” Ashton adds, gasping and scrambling off it. 

Luke’s horror at his own admission eases a bit as Michael starts to giggle. Luke joins in, rolling into the middle of the bed and huddling up against Michael. “Oh my god,” Michael mumbles, hiding his face in his hands.

“Like, for real?” Calum asks, clinging as Ashton tries to yank him away off the bed, ranting about hygiene and band boundaries in a high pitched voice. 

Michael nods. “We’re together,” he says, and Luke’s cheeks go so hot and his smile so wide he has to bury his face in Michael’s chest. He feels giddy, like he’s going to explode.

“So _that’s_ why you needed lube,” Calum says, wide eyed. Ashton groans and abandons his rescue mission, stomping out of the room while Calum lingers just long enough to high-five Michael before he scampers out after him with a yell, “I knew you weren’t bad at sex!”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm cyclotomic on tumblr, pls let me know here or there if you liked my stooory xoxoxoxo


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